Hospital

6 Feb

To think that these bleached white walls

Are the last thing they saw,

Before they drifted off.

 

Yet this place of great sorrow

Where many spend their last moments,

Is also a dome of eternal grace.

 

Where newborns enter the world

Wrapped in soft warm blankets,

Lovingly passed from arm to arm.

 

One last shaky breath is taken,

A tear rolls down weary eyes,

And I drift away.

 

perfectlonelyworld

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